Breathe Me
by xObsidian
Summary: I am small and needy. Warm me up, and breathe me. Ciel self-hate fic. TW: Self-harm, ED.


**TW: Self-harm, ED.**

* * *

_Help, I have done it again_  
_I have been here many times before_  
_Hurt myself again today_  
_And the worst part is there's no one else to blame_

"Goodnight, Bocchan."

The heavy wooden door softly clicked shut behind a black haired man as he blew out a candelabra. He paused outside of it for a moment before smiling slightly to himself and starting down the dark hallway. He had much to do before tomorrow when his young master awoke. However, had no idea that his young master was very much awake.

A boy, not quite a child but not quite a teenager, turned over in the white sheets on the bed. Pale pink lips parted to release a sigh. He wasn't sure how many times he repeated this action before he finally swung long, pale legs over the side of the bed and softly slipped to the ground. Softly, he padded across the room, the moonlight that sifted through the slightly parted curtains giving him a soft glow. His eyes slipped closed, reopening when he reached the object hanging on the wall.

Ciel Phantomhive stared at himself in the mirror. It was a bit of an understatement to say that he didn't like what he saw. No. He hated it. From his disheveled blue-grey hair, he wandered to his face. His eyes caught his eyes in the mirror. One a deep azure, the other an pale shade of amethyst. They were both that lovely blue colour once. At one time, the amethyst eye didn't have that awful mark of a demon on it either. He hated that eye.

A pale hand reached up and pulled the string around his shoulders that held his nightshirt on. As it fell to the ground softly, he stepped out of it and walked closer toward the mirror. He was close enough to see perfectly every flaw in his skin, but far enough away that he could not touch it. He enjoyed it like that.

The eyes he hated so much wandered then to his neck, his chest. He ran his fingers across the pale flesh, feeling his collarbone. He hated that too. It didn't stick out like it should. It was hidden behind a layer of flesh. His eyes continued down, reaching his stomach, his sides. He turned slightly and noted the red occult mark on his side that would never go away. God, how he hated that. He wasn't sure which mark he hated more- the demonic one or the occult's. Perhaps he hated them equally.

Stepping closer to the mirror once more, he took note of his legs next. In his eyes, they were too slender and perfect. They were far too girly to belong to a boy of his age. He wasn't even hairy. His voice was still higher than it should be and his build was too feminine for his tastes. His feet were delicate looking, small.

Ciel repated this process. He started back at his face and wandered back down. This time, he stopped on his stomach. Perhaps this is what he hated most. Yes, this was it. Running his fingers across vibrant red lines- some old, some new- he clenched a fist, causing one of the newer ones to spill a drop of red. Small hands tugged and pulled at the skin on his stomach, almost as if he were trying to rip it off. Maybe he was. He wasn't sure anymore.

He had stopped refusing Sebastian's offer of afternoon snacks and tea. He had asked Sebastian to stop bathing him and dressing him. He had asked Sebastian to stop doing these things not because he wanted to do them for himself as he grew up, but so that he could conceal his biggest secret from the only person left that seemed to care for him. Yes. Ciel Phantomhive-owner of the Funtom company, the Queen's guard dog, the head of the Phantomhive estate- hated himself. Who he was, what he looked like, it didn't matter to him. He hated it all.

It was usually after a few new wounds- or the reopening of a few- that he brought himself back to reality. The screams in his head usually died down about now, and he was confused about why they weren't. Making the mistake of looking up into the mirror, he caught a glimpse of himself. Streams of saline were left on his face from the tears that fell and were still falling. His cheeks were flushed and his nails's crest was red. Vibrant red blood trickled from the stretch of his stomach, falling onto his legs, the floor. This was what he was now.

It took all he had not to break down and sob, just sob for hours and forget all of his pride. No. He was weaker than that even. Bringing a pale fist back, he slammed it into the mirror. Once, twice, three times. The fourth blow shattered the glass. It fell to the ground, flew outward, scattered around Ciel. He wasn't sure if any had hurt him badly and he didn't particularly care. Dropping to his knees, he let go.

Four pounding noises and the sound of glass shattering upstairs brought the demon butler out of the kitchen.

"Bocchan," he said to himself.

Grabbing the candelabra, he lit it as quickly as he could and rushed out of the room and into the hallway. He pounded up the steps, though he never made a sound. The first sound he made was the crash of the door against the wall as he all but tore it off the hinges.

"Bocchan, are y-"

He stopped mid-sentence, staring at the boy on the floor. It was painful, yet somehow beautiful all at once. The moonlight reflected off the glass in a nice way and the smell of his young master's blood drove him wild. No, he shouldn't be thinking about this. For a moment, he thought this was an accident- a strange accident- but when he got closer to Ciel, he noticed the boy's hand moving back and forth in a sawing motion, drawing forth more blood to stain the floor from his stomach.

Setting the candelabra down, he knelt down across from Ciel. When the boy didn't look up, he removed his gloves, gently grasped his young master's hand, and took the shard from his hand. He didn't let go of his hand. Knowing his young master, he would just go for the next shard and the next shard and the next shard. With his free hand, he gently lifted his young master's chin up to look him in the eyes.

"Bocchan, what's troubling you? I knew there was something wrong when you asked me to stop helping you and started refusing your afternoon tea."

Red eyes trailed over the body of his young master, taking in the abuse it had been subjected to over the last several months. Ciel's ribs were starting to show, his skin covered in downy hairs, large scars decorated his stomach like grotesque sprinkles.

"What brought this on, bocchan? You should know that if you are ever unhappy, I am here for you. I may be your butler, and that may be all you see me as, but…"

Sebastian sighed. What was he trying to say? He knew he would never tai the place of Ciel's parents- no one could ever try do to that- but he wanted to be there for him like one.

"I may not be able to take the place of your parents- I am not even going to try- but know that I'm there for you when yo-"

Once again, he was cut off. This time, not by lack of words, but by the smaller boy wrapping his arms around his neck and throwing them to the ground. There were several shards of glass digging into his back, but he didn't mind. He simply wrapped his arms around the boy, stroking his hair softly. The demon didn't say anything, for everything that needed to be said was being said in that embrace. Ciel understood and that was enough for him.

They stayed like that for what seemed like forever before Ciel finally was able to pull away from Sebastian. Looking into his butler's eyes, he blinked slowly. He had never been able to read his eyes very well, but this time he could see that what Sebastian had told him was genuine. Offering him the smallest of smiles, Ciel shakily stood, Sebastian soon following.

"Sebastian, will you patch me up?" he pointed to his stomach.

Sebastian was a little shocked, not expecting Ciel to push the subject away so soon, but he didn't push. He simply knelt before his young master, bowing.

"Yes, my Lord."

Perhaps they would talk later. Whatever the case would be, he would be there for his young master whenever he needed him. As soon as the bandages were wrapped around his stomach, the glass swept up, and the floor cleaned, he stood once again by Ciel's bedside.

"Goodnight, Bocchan." he whispered softly.

For the first night in a long time, there was a reply.

"Goodight, Sebastian."

_Be my friend_  
_Hold me, wrap me up_  
_Unfold me_  
_I am small and needy_  
_Warm me up_  
_And breathe me_


End file.
